


Come On and Rest Your Head

by MoanDiary



Series: Together Alone [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Post-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 21:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20264872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/pseuds/MoanDiary
Summary: He sounds almost impatient, like they’ve had this conversation before.





	Come On and Rest Your Head

Lucifer watches Chloe’s face fixedly as she gradually awakens, the brilliant light of Sunday morning streaming through the open window and catching in the gold of her hair, making it glow, ethereal. First her brows contract slightly, then she huffs out a little sigh, shifting, her eyes fluttering as her body flexes and stretches. Her bare skin skims against his as he lies next to her, head propped up on one arm.

“Morning, babe,” she says huskily when her eyes finally open and focus on his face.

“Good morning, Detective,” he responds, unable to restrain the smile that blooms across his face.

She brings a hand up to ruffle through his tidy hair, making it stick up on end here and there and fall across his forehead. “You look like you didn’t sleep at all.”

“Why would I sleep when I could watch you instead?”

She rolls her eyes with a smile. His heart clenches.

“Be careful, we don’t want a repeat of—“

“—the ‘Bones Incident.’ Yes, I know.”

He sounds almost impatient, like they’ve had this conversation before. Chloe’s brow furrows a bit but she nonetheless leans in for a kiss. His eyes close immediately and he melts into it with a sigh, as if it’s been days, weeks, years since they’ve done this. He follows her lead when she deepens it, when she licks her way into his mouth, when her hand starts to migrate down his back and towards his ass, when her thigh presses firmly between his legs—

“Mommy, can Lucifer make pancakes for breakfast?” Trixie is standing in the open doorway in her pajamas, an inevitability. Chloe’s mouth breaks away from his abruptly as she sits up, leaving him panting and collecting himself.

“I dunno, Monkey, I think you should ask him.”

When he turns to face Trixie she looks more innocent, smaller and more childish than he remembers her. “Lucifer, would you make pancakes, please?”

“Why, of course, you little miscreant, if you’ll give me but a few moments with your mother first.”

“Yes!” She pumps a fist jubilantly before trotting off towards the kitchen.

Chloe flops back down onto the bed, smiling at him and biting her lip coyly. “We should get up.”

“Oh, I assure you, Detective, I am gotten up.”

She snorts a laugh at his cartoonishly seductive leer and pecks a kiss on the tip of his nose before decisively rolling out of bed and padding away into the bathroom.

Lucifer lies back with a sigh.

* * *

Breakfast is domestic in the extreme.

He’s in an apron over his robe and pajama pants flipping pancakes while Trixie helps Chloe slice fresh strawberries to put on top. Trixie is chattering about photosynthesis, which apparently they’re learning about in science class, with Chloe and Lucifer interjecting occasional comments and questions.

“You know, my Father was very picky about the nature of the light spectrum that should be present in your Sun when I made it,” Lucifer comments offhandedly. “Probably just so all that could happen. No humans without plants, after all.”

“You made the Sun?” Trixie exclaims.

“All the stars,” Lucifer confirms, flipping a pancake up in the air with a flourish.

A flash of annoyance, bordering on anger, passes over Chloe’s face. “Come on, Lucifer, this isn’t the time for your weird devil metaphor stuff. We’re talking about actual science that Trixie needs to know.”

Lucifer casts his eyes down at the griddle, his mood souring. “Ah, yes, my…metaphor stuff.”

There’s a long, loaded silence, Trixie looking apprehensively between her mother and the tense lines of Lucifer’s back. Chloe sighs and steps around the counter to stand next to him, pressing a hand softly against the small of his back.

“Hey, I didn’t mean—“

“I know.” He says shortly, and then straightens and plasters a smile across his face. “Let’s just have a nice day, hmm?”

The pancakes are a hit all around, fluffy and drowning in maple syrup, strawberries, butter, and whipped cream, at least on Trixie and Lucifer’s plates. Chloe shows _some_ restraint, and says so with a pointed look at Lucifer as he runs his fingers through the crumbs and remaining syrup on his plate and licks them clean.

He pulls his fingers from his mouth with an indignant pop. “What? Why should I let this go to waste?”

Chloe rolls her eyes as she buses their plates and stacks them in the sink.

* * *

They pass the day lazily, staying in and simply enjoying each other’s company. Chloe does paperwork for few hours while Trixie and Lucifer watch an old movie marathon on TV, Lucifer intermittently interjecting (mostly appropriate) anecdotes about the personal lives of long-dead stars.

“Carey Grant was dynamite in the sack,” he enthuses a few minutes into _Arsenic and Old Lace_. “And one of the few people who could rival me in the charm department. We had quite a dalliance back in ’48.”

“Lucifer,” Chloe calls in warning from across the room.

Lucifer sighs and raises a hand to forestall the questions he can see poised on Trixie’s lips. “Maybe another time, urchin.”

“What’s a dalliance?” Trixie asks innocently.

“It’s when—“

“When two people are friends and spend some time with each other, Monkey.” Chloe interjects.

“Are you and Lucifer having a dalliance?”

Lucifer cranes his neck to watch Chloe’s reaction. A deep blush is creeping up to her ears, but she meets his gaze steadily and can’t seem to suppress a smile.

“Lucifer and I are having more than a dalliance.”

His smile falters briefly into melancholy but he manages to shore it up and turn his attention back to the television. He ignores the sound of papers rustling and doesn’t even realize Chloe has moved until she’s tilting his head up with one hand under his jaw and leaning over the back of the couch to kiss him.

“Ew!” Trixie giggles.

When their lips part, Lucifer huffs out something between a sigh and a laugh and stares up at her mischievous sunlit sea-glass eyes. 

* * *

Both Chloe and Trixie are skeptical of Lucifer’s proposed “Sope Sunday”—(“Not every day can be for a different Mexican food!” Trixie protests. “Says you!” Lucifer counters.)—but both grudgingly admit that he makes a mean sope after having a taste. As a concession to Chloe’s abysmal palette he makes a batch of sickeningly sweet (albeit incredibly strong) frozen margaritas which he ends up drinking most of after one glass leaves her “half-way to bad decision territory,” in her words.

They do the dishes shoulder to shoulder in comfortable silence, Chloe washing while he dries. He seems to take more uncomplicated pleasure in this than in their kisses earlier. The simple, repetitive motions, timing his pace to match hers, working together with her, united in the simple aim of ordering chaos. In the quiet, it’s easy to imagine this is any night, anywhere.

When the dishes are all put away and Trixie has finished her homework, they play Pictionary, one of the few games that Lucifer is unquestionably the worst at. His enthusiasm for attempting to depict abstract concepts in overly convoluted ways overrides his frustration at Chloe and Trixie being baffled by everything he draws.

As the evening draws on, Trixie begins to yawn.

“Bedtime, Monkey. You’ve got school in the morning.”

“Mom,” she whines back. “Just one more round? Lucifer, please?”

Lucifer’s eyes widen in alarm. “Don’t look at me! If it were up to me, you’d be able to stay awake as late as you wished—“

Trixie’s face brightens hopefully. Chloe elbows him in the side, hard.

“—But of course, this sort of thing is for your mother to decide.” He continues, chastened.

“Bed,” Chloe says firmly.

* * *

“A curious feeling, to miss something one has never had,” Lucifer murmurs, standing in the doorway of Trixie’s bedroom with Chloe, watching the child sleep with one arm wrapped around Miss Alien.

Chloe shakes her head at him in puzzlement but doesn’t respond, shutting the door softly and taking his hand.

“Come on, Mr. Morningstar, I’ve been waiting all day to have you to myself.”

She draws him into her bedroom and takes his face in both hands, kissing him slowly, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders.

When they break apart, he rests his forehead against hers, fingers trailing along her collarbone, down the chain of the necklace her gave her, palm coming to rest over the bullet, over her heart.

The expression on his face is hungry. Not lustful, but the pained desperation of an animal starving in the winter. Despite that, he leans away from her.

“You need your rest too, my dear,” he says, mouth twisted in something approximating a smile.

Chloe looks confused for a moment, then suddenly shakes it off and proceeds to change into an oversized LAPD shirt and stride purposefully into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Lucifer watches her morosely then sighs, stripping off his trousers and climbing into bed.

She joins him a few minutes later, smelling of mint and her hand cream, and drapes an arm over his waist.

“’Night,” she mumbles, already half asleep.

“Good night, my love,” he whispers, eyes wide open, drinking in her face.

* * *

The loop resets.

Lucifer slips from Chloe’s bed as the dawn begins to break through the window. As he walks out the bedroom door, a perfect facsimile of himself appears, lying beside her, fast asleep. As he slips out of the illusion, his black suit reconstitutes around him. Never really gone, just briefly forgotten. He adjusts his cufflinks as he opens the front door and pauses on the stoop.

“Thanks for the quickie,” he says with a tight smile to the man frozen, motionless, just outside the window, doomed to watch forever the one thing he never managed to claim for himself.

Marcus Pierce’s eyes fix on him, smoldering with hatred and envy.

“I suppose you’ll see me before I see you,” Lucifer sneers and sets off down the walk.

“You know,” Pierce calls after him. Lucifer stops in his tracks but doesn’t turn. “I’m still not sure who this hurts more, me or you.”

“I don’t know either,” Lucifer murmurs.

The King of Hell leaves through the unlocked door.

**Author's Note:**

> Realized late in the game that this could be a companion piece to A Moment of Weakness. I'm just a real sucker for Chloe and Lucifer missing each other and doing they best they can with what they have, I guess!


End file.
